The Fyre Chronicles Chapter 16
The Fyre Chronicles Chapter 16 Sup Walema cursed to herself. That bastard Santuric had gotten away again, like he did back in April when she was attacking that new entity. But now, a vital thing had changed. She now had the Fyre Orb, and whatever little trouble they had had with those Fyre morons would soon be gone. It was just a matter of finding and eliminating those last stragglers now. And that guy, Firr too obviously, but that was an entirely different problem. They had found their headquarters, obviously easier with the help they’ve got but they still managed to kill almost all of them without resistance. Sup looked around. This place was now completely encrusted in Yce. She walked down the empty hallway. Her minions had already searched and cleared this place; no one was left and the important writings in the study had been burned, so Sup conjured a power core to keep the minions activated and able to keep this place, and then Yce’d out, enveloping herself in fog and then disappeared. She reappeared at their lair, the frozen tower. Located somewhere on the mainland ice of Greenland, this place lay well hidden from the rest of the world and kept a constant cool. The layout of the tower was so that the lowest ranking was at the bottom and then it worked up till the frozen throne in the top where The Master ruled from. Sup was a higher ranking general because of her many deeds. She walked in through the main door. She entered a grandiose hall with two curved staircases leading one level up and some doors on the walls. One of these doors led to the living quarters, the place where new people were born, raised and indeed forced to serve the Yce. This technique did not create as focused members as Fyre, but it created a lot, and with every cannon-fodder soldier that completed basic training, who were each as strong as the basic Fyre apprentice because of the rise in Yce these later years, the Yce got even closer to dominating the contrast. She walked up the stairs, into the central hallway where the barracks for soldiers were and up the central spiral staircase. The tower had eight levels, excluding the basement. There was the first floor, entrance with access to the breeder basement, second floor with the barracks for trained soldiers and the base of the stairs, third floor with training facilities, fourth floor with the offices for squad leaders, fifth floor for the lieutenants, sixth floor for the generals such as Sup, seventh floor for the scholars and the eighth top floor for The Master on the frozen throne. Sup reached the top floor and approached The Master. Sup slowly walked up beneath his throne and kneeled. “Master, I have brought you the Orb of Fyre.” The Master looked like a statue, carved out of the Yce in the throne. He was completely grey, had a long beard with icicles in it but with, when he opened his eyelids with a loud cracking noise, like an ice flake breaking, you could see his bright blue eyes. “Let me see child” he slowly said. Sup reached for her Yce gloves so she could touch the Orb. When she had first seen it, she had tried to grab it and gotten a nasty burn. But these gloves shielded her from it. She Yce’d a pedestal of fog, took the Orb out from the makeshift bag she had created from the flexible material her suit was made of and placed the Orb there. The Master let out a sound like an iceberg shifting, piercing the Orb with his eyes. “You have done well child. This may teach me many things, but I will need time. I trust you have also taken care of their apprentices?” Sup nodded. Looking as pleased as a rock could look, he waved his hand and said “You may go.” Sup bowed, backed out and went down the stairs to her quarters. Her room, like every other persons room here, was very modest. The only noteworthy things here was a desk, bookshelf and higher quality bed, but otherwise very modest. Sup lay on her cold bed, rested her back from carrying the heavy Orb. Her suit, made of a navy blue material called Mistsatsu, retracted to the form of a belt. Your skin did not breathe well underneath the dense material, so she had to retract it once in a while. Mistsatsu, when activated by the wearer, acted somewhat like water, but could be molded into basically anything. From weapons to shields or to simply grab or punch a close range foe. Only higher members were granted Mistsatsu. It took a long time to extract it from the deep Yce, a long way beneath the surface of Greenland and was therefore very valuable. Sup rested her eyes. She zoned out her mind, though of nothing, let the cold fill her. An image appeared, a memory, the earliest she knew, around fourteen years ago, when she was fourteen. It was when she had met The Master for the first time; he had had a hand on her head. The first time she could remember the chilling touch of Yce. Before that, there was nothing, as if she had been created at that moment. She had pondered it much the last years, but she had not remembered anything, and so came to serve the only purpose she knew of, serving The Master, fighting for the Yce. Meanwhile, three figures appeared in a flash of Fyre in an African field. One of them fell to his knees, clutching his shoulders, with the largest one kneeling and tending him, but one of them just stood there, staring into space, unable to forget those blue eyes. See also The Fyre Chronicles San Ting